


Dust in the Barn

by DrawMeAKey



Category: Last Tango In Halifax
Genre: Caroline and Gillian should be together, Caroline's a badass, F/F, Ghosts, Gillian can dance, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Moonlight on Halloween creeps me out, Trick or Treating, We'll get there, haunted stuff, that damn barn, what do you wear to an exorcism?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23659894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrawMeAKey/pseuds/DrawMeAKey
Summary: Post season 5 and in a world without COVID-19, it dawns on Caroline that if you want something done right, you do it yourself, and this means exorcising Eddie from the barn. It just so happens she is also carrying around a ghost.  Plus - who wouldn't want to spend a Halloween horror movie marathon with  Gillian?
Relationships: Gillian Greenwood/Caroline McKenzie-Dawson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 32





	1. The Glowing Door

_"Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him._ – MacBeth, Act 5, Scene1

 _“But, man alive, don’t you feel it in the air? All around you? The presence of Evil.”_ – Evil Under the Sun

The thought came to Caroline while deep asleep in the beginning of October and, like most early morning ideas, it blurred back into dreams, forgotten. It wasn’t until she added cream to her morning tea, watching the milk blossom and sprawl throughout, that the forgotten dream resurfaced: something bright that radiated dread with nebulous tentacles. Caroline couldn‘t say why, but the vague memory left her depressed. Relief bubbled up with the teabag, cresting its tawny waves, as she saw the answer clearly; despite having no idea how to proceed, she did have the better part of the month to prepare.

In the weeks leading up to Halloween, Caroline ruminated on the particulars that compose an exorcism. She was diligent, thoughtful; open to improvisation. Her pedantic nature led to a protocol. Even considering the unknowns, the plan was decent. She gathered materials, read whatever instruction she could find unobtrusively. There was no control group, and she wouldn’t offer Gillian a placebo. She couldn’t just tell Gillian it was done without trying.

Preoccupied with her mission, the month condensed and Halloween dawned clear and cold with an almost full moon that illuminated the countryside with a frosty glow, turning the road to a silver ribbon. The trees, fence posts, and half stone wall hugging the road threw long shadows that all but swallowed the headlights from Caroline’s jeep. Even though she had been this way more times than she could count, the usual landmarks to Gillian’s appeared foreign. _He knows,_ she thought. _He knows what I’m planning. If there is a day of the year when whatever veil is lowered, it’s tonight._

Caroline went over her mental checklist again: Halloween was the most logical (and readily available day) to do the thing. She had her kit (or gho-bag as she thought of it) that included salt (charcoal- infused by monks somewhere), plain beeswax candles (with a lighter she took off of a Year 9), and a bunch of dried sage that the Reiki-loving Art teacher had presented to Caroline upon her arrival to clear the energy from the last head teacher ( _smudge stick indeed_ , she thought). She’d read a little on what was done for exorcisms, but decided that Eddie hadn’t been particularly Catholic, so those specifics wouldn’t apply.

Gillian would be preoccupied with her horror film marathon, and wouldn’t be up for nosing around the barn. In truth, Caroline wondered if Gillian was into horror films or the stories behind them; she had talked of nothing but the trials behind making _Noserferatu_ , how Lon Chaney had placed discs inside his cheeks, and that the makeup had left his skin raw in _Phantom of the Opera_. Gillian was aching to have Caroline sit through _The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari_ , but promised the 3rd attraction would be up to Caroline. Not that Gillian didn’t have ideas and had sent several offerings for a third in case Caroline couldn’t think of anything, when all Caroline wanted to say was _Practical Magic_ , with the hope of margaritas and a dance around the living room.

Both Flora and Calamity were with Raff and Ellie, as well as school friends to be squired around a new neighborhood for trick-or-treating, as there would be no candy to be had on the farm. It would be an evening in with Gillian. Since the fallout with Ruth, Caroline appreciated and leaned on Gillian’s unique brand of cheer leading. Both women were at ease with each other and, buoyed up, were carried closer together in the same direction, as a shell is pushed up the beach by the tide.

Even though the women might have been moving along together, there was a particular obstacle that Gillian stared at daily. The barn always brought attention to itself, advertising its presence to the countryside (the giraffe hadn’t helped), becoming its own character on the farm, and anyone who had known Eddie, wouldn’t go near the barn save for the briefest of visits. Its personality had darkened further over the last couple of months, a photograph was the closest people ventured, let alone work inside of it. Gillian would come into the house, swearing about the loss of her favorite screwdriver, or that the battery to the pneumatic whatever was always dead. She would come crashing in sucking at her fingers because the light switch had shocked her. Her hair standing on end, she would pace the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil, shaking her fingers, flinging bits of energy into whichever corner she was nearest.

In the past years since her confession to Caroline, Gillian rarely spoke his name, but Eddie continued to haunt her. Even dead for over a decade, he remained.

To this end, Caroline wondered if had it been the violent act that entombed him. The earth can remember, adapt. The land was a living, breathing thing, and erosion could be a slow exhalation, releasing soil and water. So why couldn’t it hold moments, or memories? Why wouldn’t the earth capture an act of noise and action that ended in blood? Caroline thought of blood oaths, and decided that what seeped into the ground must have sealed it. Here had been pain and fear made tangible. If the barn was keeping Eddie, maybe every time it rained, the earth was trying to give him up; expel Eddie again and again and again.

This line of thought was not productive. Caroline shook her head and, her own ghost pushed to the foreground. Would she ever grow tired of Kate? She was still there. She spoke to Kate regularly and the want for her, Caroline’s desire, the days stolen, and the sheer waste of it could still make her audibly groan. Although Caroline didn’t think of Kate as a “ghost” or “spirit,” Kate was the sounding board when she needed. Caroline sometimes felt and saw Kate as solidly as if she were sitting in front of her but, more often, she would feel that Kate was about to enter the room, she was right around the corner. When these moments happened, Caroline would hold her breath, waiting. Waiting for Kate. So Caroline carried Kate with her wherever she went, holding her ache close and dear. Likewise, Gillian was carrying Eddie, but it was killing her. Gillian deserved to live, unencumbered, and if Caroline could step in between Eddie and Gillian now, she would. Gillian deserved peace, some happiness, and _Caroline wanted to be part of that happiness._ This was a new realization. She grimaced, her cheeks burning. _You deserve something nice. You’re a nice person._

The curving shadows chasing her headlights brought on shivers, and Caroline re-snugged her scarf. _What does one wear to do an exorcism?_ She had had to buy a new poncho, her camel colored one was too light, and she felt this dark chocolate one looked more serious, and would possibly hide any dirt. She had added an ornate orange scarf, dark jeans, and the biggest surprise purchase – short Hunter wellies with a slight heel. She had no idea what the ground inside the barn was actually like, so they seemed the most practical footwear, and Gillian’s sure-to-come snark would be a seal of approval.

She turned into the drive slowing to park in front of the offensive building. Turning the jeep off, the lights extinguished, and in their absence the door to the barn was vibrating with moonlight. Caroline’s breath caught; _What if Eddie’s ghost wouldn’t leave? What if this didn’t work?_

“Right then, that’s that.” She said aloud to the steering wheel, projecting more confidence than she felt, and removing the key from the ignition. She sealed her intention. It had to be done. It had to be done and she had to be the one to do it.

She stepped out of the car gathering the wine and the pre-made margarita (Gillian would put up less of a fight if the drink was already available), and was able to negotiate the path easily thanks to the lunar radiance. Caroline stopped just before knocking at the door she knew was always unlocked to look back at the barn. In contrast to the door alive with light, the broad body was a vacuum. A shadow completely absorbing and dampening any movement, life, and energy. She shivered again, involuntarily.

“Hiya! You took long enough, I burned a bag of popcorn already.” Gillian had opened the door in greeting, and was walking back to the kitchen by the time Caroline registered she was walking into the house.

“I, uh….What are you wearing?” The question was out in an authoritative tone, before she could realize or stop it. Caroline’s eyes adjusted to the indoor light. Gillian was wearing a jumpsuit of some kind, too big on her slight frame, white (which Gillian never wore on the farm), with an oval of pink over her middle, and a hood on her head that had flaps. No. Ears, all with broad black spots all over. At her groin was a pillow like thing with 4 protrusions. An udder. Gillian was dressed as a cow. A sheep farmer is a cow on Halloween. Of course.

“Costume, bit obvious. Oxford’s let you down.” Gillian nodded her head and her fabric ears wobbled. She extended her arms slightly, and rolled her hips in a movement that sent the udder jiggling. Caroline’s eyes were fixed on them, and realizing she’s staring at Gillian’s crotch, coughs to break the moment.

“Is there a tail?” Caroline’s voice goes higher, was she contemplating ghostly realms just a moment ago?

“Wouldn’t be a proper cow without one.” Again Gillian swayed her hips, this time adding rotation so that Caroline could see the droopy rear, and the cow tail danced opposite her hips. In a fluid motion she caught the tail and twirled it like the Tramp, while duck-walking closer to Caroline. The performance ended with a flourish of the tail to Caroline’s nose. Caroline notes how the udders bounce obscenely, and how happy Gillian is with Caroline’s face.

“What have you brought?” Gillian filled the kitchen with her excitement, pinging around like a cartoon made flesh: She clapped to take the wine from Caroline while itching at her hood and her ears flapped, exaggerating the movement. “Oooo margaritas, didn’t think I had any Tequila, eh? And 2 bottles of Reisling. Good, good!” Caroline watched the udders and the tail synchronize. “Can you open one and put the margaritas in fridge? I’ve got to use the loo. This thing takes forever to get out of, it was Raff’s, spilled summat on it. Zipper gets caught awful.”

Caroline saw an unexpected window of opportunity. “Yes of course, I left limes in the Jeep, I’ll just run out and fetch them, shall I?” She wasn’t sure where the lie came from, but there it was.

“Yeah, good, be right back,” Gillian nodded as she ran up to the bathroom, struggling to extricate herself from her bovine identity.

Caroline took a quick breath, steadying herself in the deafening silence left in the wake of Gillian’s energy, her words still bouncing on the floor. She has barely left the room, and Caroline misses the aura already. _It has to be done. Now. It has to be done now._

As Gillian’s footfalls ascend the staircase, Caroline backed out the door she just came in through, back to the jeep. Silently she took the gho-bag from behind the driver’s seat. Without a look back to Gillian’s house, she set her jaw and opened the glowing door to the barn.

**Optional Soundtrack:**

[Coconut – Harry Nilsson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TsSuueEGQSM)

[Fresh Blood - Eels](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4Qp1TEKswQ)

[Fuel to Fire – Agnes Obel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNV28kwDWHA)


	2. Alchemy is Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the tune of "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair" -  
> She's gonna exorcise Eddie right outta the Barn!  
> She's gonna exorcise Eddie right outta the Barn!
> 
> I'm sorry. I'll stop now. But yeah, it happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the readers and all of their lovely and gracious comments, and many, many thanks to viviandarkbloom for editing and suggestions. I'm indebted.

“…After a second in which his head made the movement of a baffled dog’s on a scent and then gave a frantic little shake for air and light, he was at me in a white rage, … filled the room like the taste of poison, the wide over-whelming presence. ‘It’s _he_?’” —Henry James, “The Turn of the Screw”

_Rumpelstiltskin_. The name comes to Caroline unbidden as she closes the door to the barn behind her. She doesn’t close it completely, though. That seems too finite, too much of a separation to the world outside. The barn’s dark is punctuated by shafts of light from the moon. Tufts of straw float in and out of rays of moonlight; falling and rising, defying any claim of gravity.

“Rumpelstiltskin.” Saying the word aloud echoes lightly with a sibilant ‘s’ returning to hiss back in her ear. _I would rather turn straw to gold than summon a ghost._

Alchemy would be easier: turn copper to silver and back again. Dazzle with mercury, a showy element. There were color-changing potions, she could make matter change forms. Science. Magic. They could be the same trick, but Science wears a white coat and pulls the curtain aside, inviting you to see. The straw looked white as it floated, leeched of color, a trick of light. _I could weave the straw to be a silver thread. Asbestos cloth._ In ancient Rome, the wealthy would show off between courses by throwing the orts of a meal onto the fire, along with the finely woven silver tablecloth, only to pull the cloth whole and untouched from the flame, to set the table for the next round of feasting. _Showmanship. Silver. Gold. Rumpelstiltskin. I know your name._

_Eddie._

_Edward Greenwood, I know your name._

She knew the sticky light switch was somewhere to the left. Shuffling her way along the stone wall, Caroline is both relieved and disappointed when the 4 meager lights pop on with a dull buzz. The barn has an unsettling stillness to it and Caroline anxiously waits for the lights to fully warm up to begin.

The few steps into the barn have been a gateway to an ethereal plane. The contrast of moonlight and glittering dust swirling around, silent, aside from the lamps. Caroline remembered Gillian telling her of a family of owls that had roosted there in the apex of the roof and wondered if they were still there. Surely, they would be awake and out hunting at this time. No ruffling sounds, no cooing, no lambs this month. An electric hum is steady in the background.

Caroline stoops down to unpack her bag while mentally cursing herself for not bringing a torch. _Bloody stupid_. Lawrence left them out on the kitchen table for 2 weeks after staying a night in a tent in the yard with Angus, and after looking at them every day she finally put them away (over binning them), only to forget packing them. Taking the salt, she pours a modest circle, a meter in diameter, and then stands in the center. From within the circle she takes the bundle of dried sage and lights it so that it starts to smoke. All the sounds of the barn have muffled now. Caroline lights the candles, then places them to form a triangle just outside and holding the salt circle. This was an improvisation as nothing had directed this addition, but 3 is a powerful number; the atomic number for Lithium, a light, silvery white metal, able to withstand heat. _You’re stalling_ , her brain accuses.

 _I don’t want to do this anymore_ , she admits back.

 _You’re not doing it for you_ , the inner voice says.

At the thought of quitting, such shame washes over her that she picks up the smoking sage and waves it all around her body and head, extending her hand beyond the salt circle. _Right, then. Now or never_. She puts the sage bundle on the ground between her feet.

Caroline breathes deeply and while exhaling, pushes her shoulders down, stares hard into the black, and wills her eyes to see into the darkness. The weak barn lights have only redefined the dark edges among the stalls and hay bales. Were shadows jumping from the rafters to the stalls? There were scuttling sounds coming from a corner to her right.

“Edward Greenwood, I know you’re here.”

She waits a beat.

“Eddie, you are dead. You have been dead for over 15 years now. You are to leave this place.” She sounds calmer than she feels so she lets that momentum carry her. “You are to leave. You have no power here. You have no more power over Gillian. “

She wanted that to be true. “You didn’t survive her in life and your afterlife will not survive me.” That last bit came to her on the fly and Caroline realizes that this statement is also true; she would claw and fight for Gillian. The pang of fear flutters in her stomach. “I will protect her as long as I have breath.”

With those words the barn grows noticeably colder. Suddenly, Caroline is willing herself to keep standing. Clouds of mist emanate from her mouth as she breathes. There is definitely a shadow moving around the perimeter of stalls.

“Eddie? Do you understand? You are dead and have no power here. Leave.” Caroline is shivering tightly and her knees have turned to rubber.

The smell of stale sweat, cheap booze, and skunked beer permeates the air, growing stronger by second. It fills Caroline’s nose and crawls into her mouth. It’s everywhere. Her eyes water and she is struggling to stand upright. The lights flicker and dim; the dark is moving, growing, bouncing from corners, and rolling to fill the spaces around her, up to the roof.

 _Never, never, never, NEVER_ , the words are not spoken out loud, but Caroline hears them clearly. They echo off the beams.

“Eddie Greenwood,” her voice dies just beyond the circle she stands in. “You are done. Leave!”

A loud crack of thunder sounds above Caroline’s head bringing dust and flotsam down. While raising her hands to cover herself, an energy ball of ice with a molten middle crashes through her torso. She tastes metal and falls to her knees. Gagging, she spits and tries to stand.

Caroline only succeeds because a form hugs her like a shadow; calves, knees, thighs, waist, chest, arms, shoulders, her entire body supported, raising her with a strength not her own, fortifying her with a sense of something soft and warm, peaceful and familiar.

_Kate._

She can smell the lotion Kate used, feels the lingering touch of her hands as she holds up Caroline’s arms.

 _Why?_ she thinks. _Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here._

Caroline feels the lips at her ear, hears the words in her mind: _You can do this. You‘re magnificent._

Caroline sobs. _I’m sorry we didn’t have...more. I wanted more._

 _Caroline, finish this._ Kate hugs Caroline.

"I loved you _._ " She exhales the words in a whisper, closing her eyes and leaning back into Kate, for just the briefest of moments. It hurts to breathe in when she does, but shuddering , and with all the energy she has grieved with, looks into the darkness and proclaims, “Eddie Greenwood, you have no power here. Leave at once.“

There is a tremendous *CRACK* right in front of her; it hits the candle just outside the circle, accompanied by an inhuman scream. The candle jumps. Splits in two. Complete darkness swallows everything with a roaring sound as the other 2 candles surrender and the feeble electricity in the barn gives out.

Kate is gone and without the support, Caroline collapses, falling outside of the circle, exposed. With a gasp, the dark presses in on her, crushing her, pushing her down. Crying, she chokes, “Leave! Gillian is not yours. Let her go!”

 _I think I’ll pass out now._ The sight at the corners of her eyes is fuzzy and a dark red. Caroline has only fainted once in her life and it was shortly after Lawrence had been born. She was back at home and trying to sleep when Lawrence would allow. He cried constantly in those first few days, and John had taken to reciting classics to him. Caroline had been so tired, she’d barely eaten anything and John was so pleased that he remembered the entirety of a passage from the Iliad that as she weakly applauded him, she could feel the pull of gravity coming on, it was inevitable. She’d fallen back into the couch, and when she had come to, John had the nerve to compare her to the ‘Lady of Shalott’ still in her boat.

Instead, she retches blood. _More blood in this place_ , she thinks. _May it repel him here on after._

The lights sputter on, brighter than they were, and her head is being cradled in a lap with a pillow. No, not a pillow. An udder. Gillian.

”Caz? Caroline.“ Gillian’s voice is strained with worry. ”The power went out in the house. Almost fell down the stairs it were so dark.“ She is smoothing Caroline’s hair, holding her gently, like she’s a wild animal primed to run. ”I made it to the front door and saw the barn open. And here you are.” Gillian is gently running her hands around Caroline’s face and limbs and Caroline realizes her scalp is bleeding; she has tear stains and snot on her face.

When Gillian had first entered the barn, she flicked the light switch, which had already been in the ‘ _On_ ’ position, but it clicked again, then turned on obediently. The flooding light revealed Caroline sprawled on the floor. In the spot where Eddie had died. _It’s not him,_ she thought. But for a moment, she was thrown back to that day, that half-giddy dreadful action, looking back at him where he lay when she heard her Dad pull up in his car.

Pure fear coursed through Gillian, pushing cold to her fingertips and adrenaline to her knees that went wobbly, and she realized, _It’s not him_. She ran to Caroline, assessed the debris about her on the ground, and paused long enough for it to register: _It’s different now. It’s changed._ She focused on the bag that she hadn’t seen Caroline bring into the house. When she saw the smoking sage bundle, the candles, the smeared salt on the ground, she understood.

“I thought, I thought at first he did this to you, or that you were him, and I was living it again. Caz, I n-never would have asked you to…”

“Mmmm, didn’t need to,” Caroline’s voice trails off. “I was thinking. Gillian?”

“Caz, you’re bleeding. We need to move you to t’house.”

Caroline is bone tired. “Gillian?”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t bring any limes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music to Exorcise to?
> 
> Grounds For Divorce - Elbow
> 
> Night on Bald Mountain – Mussorgsky - I love the resolution of this – the morning comes, and light cleanses everything

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work to be posted on AO3. Many, many thanks to viviandarkbloom and KatieDingo who are just fantastically supportive and the most courteous of editors. 
> 
> I do have plans for where this will go, hopefully we get there sooner than later.


End file.
